Saddled
by erumaren-ainulindale
Summary: Yumichika chose Ikkaku over his zanpakuto many decades ago. After a serious injury, Ruri'iro Kujaku implores his master to rethink this decision or risk losing him for good. Spending too much time in one's inner world can be physically exhausting and emotionally excruciating... IkkaYumi
1. Inevitable

**Saddled**

~ Erumaren Ainulindalë ~

**A/N**: This story takes place pre-timeskip. Pairing: Yumichika/Ikkaku

- First is a teaser/introduction. There will be about 4-5 chapters in all. Enjoy! Feel free to leave constructive criticism (in fact I encourage it)!

Chapter One - Inevitable

As much as Ikkaku loved to fight, slaughtering weak hollows could become pretty boring pretty fast.

"MAN, what a pain in the ass!" He barked when two more stepped out from the dark wood. "Where are they all coming from?"

A nest of small hollows had just emerged in North Rukongai, wreaking havoc on nearby villages. Their numbers were dwindling fast with high ranking officers of Squad 11 on hand, but so far Ikkaku had counted at least thirty. "Man," he repeated. "What a fuckin' pain…"

Before he could slice the beasts, another sword swung down from above and cleaved them both like butter. "Aw, come on!" Ikkaku growled, throwing his arms down in defeat and glaring up at the soul repear who stole his kill. "Those were mine ya know!"

Yumichika stopped midair and flipped his hair back in a typical display of arrogance. "Ikkaku, whining is very-"

"Yeah, yeah, 'ugly', whatever! Get outta my way!" He flash-stepped past the smug bastard and spun Hozukimaru deliberately close to that pretty face. Of course the other man took no notice, having already chosen his next target and dodged in the process of pursuing it. Within moments he was standing where the hollow should have been, watching its form dissolve into thin air.

Yumichika turned to find his partner conspicuously counting his fingertips, face contorted in concentration. "You're falling behind," he confirmed with a smirk.

Ikkaku growled in reply and leaped over an advancing hollow, whipping the naginata sword above his head for leverage. "Shut it," he mumbled to himself. These small fries were starting to bore him, but, orders were orders. At least he and Yumichika had struck up a little contest to keep things vaguely interesting.

Finally, it seemed they had taken out the last one. A disconcerting silence hung over the area, all wildlife having fled hours ago. Ikkaku sighed obnoxiously to himself and hit the ground. He threw in a few arm stretches for good measure as Yumichika looked around to verify that the hollows were, in fact, gone.

"Orders?" he asked, landing a few feet in front of Ikkaku.

"Che." Yumichika's insistence on treating him like a leader could be somewhat unnerving. "Find the captain, I guess." He tilted his head in the direction of Kenpachi Zaraki's rampant spiritual pressure and grinned. "Seems like he's havin' fun."

The pair arrived to find the beast of a man laughing joyously as he sparred against a hollow like an old friend. Anything to draw out the experience, they supposed. Ikkaku flopped to the ground and watched with little interest as the captain dodged a particularly lethal-looking hook. Interfering in the fight was a good way to get cleaved in half, he thought, and besides, the spider-like creature wouldn't last much longer. Might as well enjoy the show.

"Shouldn't you be keeping your guard up?" Yumichika looked down at Ikkaku with feigned nonchalance.

"Eeeeh, Captain's got it covered. Besides, he'd go crazy if we tried to step in."

"I know that," Yumichika replied, but couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. A strong sense of foreboding settled in his gut, filling his head with a confused buzz. Trust in one's superiors could only go so far when faced with such beasts; he and the rest of the squad knew this well enough to give intuitive feelings at least some consideration. He sighed and focused on the hollow suffering under his captain's euphoric swings.

"Ken-chan's having fun!" Yachiru shouted from her perch in a nearby tree. Yumichika crossed his arms and glanced her way, smiling despite his frayed nerves. That statement could only mean one thing: this monster was tough. No wonder their squad and not one of the weaker ones had been called out to remove it. The fact that Yachiru sat aside instead of Zaraki's shoulder further confirmed its destructive skill.

Suddenly, that ominous feeling flared up with a vengeance. The hollow, seemingly gathering its last bit of strength, had also taken notice of Yachiru's exclamation. Its piercing eyes made Yumichika's muscles tense, blood running cold. He planted his feet on the ground and waited.

It was planning something…

Ikkaku frowned to himself and slowly rose. His hand instinctively cupped the hilt of the sheathed Hozukimaru. Yes, the monster was watching them. It had its sights set on –

"LIEUTENANT!"

Had Yumichika thought a moment longer, he probably would have reconsidered acting. Yachiru could take care of herself, she was stronger than most, and to do what he'd just done was to break one of the most important rules in Squad 11: Never step into another soldier's fight. Battles must be fought one-on-one. To take a hit meant for someone else was to strip them of their pride.

_Dishonor._

The breath he tried to take in halted before it could satisfy. _  
_

Fuji Kujaku dangled precariously as his eyes trailed down to assess the damage. They were about ten feet off the ground, right where the hollow had been aiming its spear-like leg at Yachiru. His four-pronged sword had managed to block one spike, but not the other two, which were currently embedded in his torso. Afraid to drop the zanpakutō and bring even more disgrace to himself, he gathered what little strength remained to tighten his grip around its hilt.

His knuckles whitened, hold so flimsy it shook like a leaf. _Don't let go, _he chanted mentally over and over again, willing himself not to drop the precious sword. No matter their differences and long-standing disagreements, they shared a soul, imprinted on each other every aspect of who they were, and needed this connection more than either one cared to admit anymore. Never had Yumichika stopped to consider how lost he would feel if the stubborn bird spirit left him behind – not until, before his very eyes, the entirety of its form dissolved into nothingness.

Black clouded his vision momentarily, leaving his hand to grope aimlessly in search for the zanpakutō. Its presence had completely disappeared, leaving no trace behind. Yumichika grit his teeth against an onslaught of stomach-turning anger. _Ruri'iro Kujaku… no…_

Finally a jerking sensation told him that the hollow had been eliminated. Before he could brace himself for the ground's harsh impact, a pair of warm arms enclosed him in a careful but frantic embrace and brought him down slowly, a hand gripping his arm with vice-like power.

"Shhhh-shhh, come 'ere, Yumi, it's okay, it's okay."

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, finally coming down from the pleasant numbness of shock. Ikkaku's fingers gently pushed a few strands of hair to the side, tucking them behind his ear, then resting at the jaw to hold his head in place as he settled to the ground. The strong, familiar spiritual pressure encompassed Yumichika like a blanket, providing the strength necessary to crack open both eyes. What he saw was utter panic, feebly masked by an intense, determined expression.

Trying to speak only resulted in a violent coughing fit. "Quiet, don't try to talk," Ikkaku urged, voice cracking. "Just take it easy."

_This is it,_ he thought somewhat blankly. _I did it. I kept my secret. Ikkaku and the captain never found out about Ruri'iro Kujaku. I'm taking it with me… after all. _Tears pricked at his eyes, surprising him to no end. The sick sensation in his stomach and chest clearly meant more than physical strain. It was an old, unusual feeling he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in many decades: regret.

"Hush, hush," came Ikkaku's voice. The soft-spoken words brought Yumichika back from his reverie. _This is no time to dwell on what can't be changed_, he scolded himself. _Ikkaku is saying something, listen to him! You idiot, listen!_

Yumichika's eyes rolled back as the world around him spun and tipped side-to-side. Ikkaku's hand brushed over his forehead once more, then down to the curve of his neck. The injured soul reaper could no longer make out any words, but let the gentle tone soothe him nonetheless. Those strong arms suddenly began to shake him like a rag doll as frantic shouts drifted through his subconscious. A massive hand pressed against him then, accompanied by an unmistakably dense spiritual pressure.

"Captain." Yumichika briefly wondered whether he'd said the word aloud or simply mouthed it, if even that. Lieutenant Kusajishi was there as well, her head resting against his shoulder as Ikkaku finally ceased his panic-stricken attempts at revival. None of their spiritual pressures contained a hint of the anger or shame he'd expected from such blatant disregard for division policy.

_I never found out what would happen_, he realized. _Would they all hate me if they knew? Would they make me leave if I showed them Ruri'iro Kujaku?_

Yachiru's small hand found its way to his sleeve and gripped tightly. Her spiritual pressure was so calm and sure. He smiled to himself. This little kid was so much stronger than the rest of them combined.

Fear nipped at the back of his head, but he wouldn't allow it to take over these last few moments. Instead, he simply sighed, resigning himself to ignore the definite regret and go peacefully. It was funny, he thought, how all this time he'd spent preparing for the inevitable hadn't made a damn difference.

Ikkaku gaped down at his friend, not quite sure what to do or say. His spiritual pressure was nearly zero and he no longer reacted to outside stimulus. The shocked man wracked his brain, trying to think of something, anything that might make Yumichika open his eyes again. He'd tried compliments, begging, even shaking him and screaming like an idiot child but nothing worked.

His captain sat before them now, one hand on Yumichika's shoulder and the other on Yachiru. He hadn't said a word so far, simply didn't feel the need for them. He wanted to flee the heavy atmosphere, but knew he should stay for Ikkaku's sake. Anyone with half a brain could see how close he was with Yumichika. He shouldn't have to suffer alone, especially not when his daughter owed the little weirdo her life.

"Hey, Ikka-chan?" Yachiru piped up, breaking the deafening silence. Ikkaku's wide eyes slowly trailed her way. "Don't be sad, okay?"

Ikkaku's brows knit together in confusion. Her little hand was reaching up to him, so he took it on instinct. His own was stained with blood, but of course the little demon-child didn't bat an eye when it smeared across her arm. She blinked up at him, expression unchanging, seemingly waiting for a response. But Ikkaku couldn't speak. He returned his gaze to Yumichika's face, clinging to the last bits of spiritual pressure emenating from him. His head shook from side to side for a moment, as if denying the situation altogether. Yumichika was strong! He couldn't die because of some dumb hollow. No way. His sword had disappeared to conserve spiritual pressure, which meant he was gonna be okay. Yeah, everything was fine.

But the more he looked at the limp form in his arms, not reacting in his typical fashion to the terrible blood stains and obvious potential for _ugly_ scarring, the look in Yachiru's eyes filled with pity, the more that shitty feeling sunk deep in his chest. Yumi couldn't die! They were just having fun a few minutes ago…

Ikkaku tightened his grip on both Yachiru and Yumichika. No way. No way he could handle this. His head dipped down to hide the expression of agony he knew wouldn't come across as very strong, to his captain and lieutenant. _If you die,_ he thought, teeth gritted in anger,_ I'll kill you._

* * *

_To be continued_


	2. Drifting Along

Chapter Two – Drifting Along

The grass felt soft and damp between Yumichika's toes as he spread them, digging into rain-soaked earth. The dark clouds were finally beginning to recede, allowing a few streams of sunlight to fall through. He kept walking, taking in the oddly quiet atmosphere.

Rounding a small incline, he paused to watch the six banners snap against their poles. Forest green, deep teal, maroon, rich midnight black, dark purple, white and gold – the sunlight caught them in their frenzy, making shadows dance against the ground where Yumichika stood. He smiled approvingly. Yes, his inner world was beautiful as ever. These triangular flags were the only decoration besides the tent where Ruri'iro Kujaku often stayed. Yumichika headed there now, hoping to find his zanpakutō spirit in one piece, but he wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

Three weeks it had been since his injury. Three long, agonizing weeks where his days consisted of nothing but sleeping off pain remedies and trying to sort out the thoughts in his head. Ruri'iro Kujaku should have restored himself several days ago, and his long absence was starting to wear on Yumichika's nerves. He'd been worried from the moment he woke up – even asking for the sword right away instead of his usual request for a mirror and brush – but his caretakers in Squad 4 assured him it would return within the next day or two. His binding chain and soul sleep were not damaged, so once he'd stabilized, no one was overly concerned about permanent damage.

Once his spiritual pressure levels had risen enough, however, nothing happened. Yumichika had tried to commune with the spirit, reaching deeply inside himself to the best of his ability, but had no luck getting through. Ruri'iro Kujaku was not calling him, and without his zanpakutō physically present, he couldn't perform jinzen. The situation seemed hopeless.

Yumichika feared the worst: if Ruri'iro Kujaku had been destroyed, then he'd lost his soul reaper powers and everything he'd worked so hard to achieve. Wouldn't that be the perfect end-all to his years of desperately hiding the sword's true nature? He thought it ironic that now he faced his worst nightmare not because Ruri'iro Kujaku had been revealed, but because he was gone. Now, he'd give anything to have that power he so despised back.

For many nights he'd stayed awake, staring out the half-open paper door, wondering why this had happened. Why did his zanpakutō refuse to regenerate? Was he so disconnected from the weapon that he couldn't see this coming? The most likely scenario, it seemed, was that Ruri'iro Kujaku had somehow been broken beyond repair. It made no sense; zanpakutō didn't just disappear and not come back once their wielder's spiritual pressure had been restored. No one seemed to have any answers for him but to wait. The longer he waited, the more he was sure he'd be waiting forever.

Once Squad 4 had released him Yumichika went straight to the forges in District 1 North, where the smiths worked on creating new Asauchi. He could tell by the way the men had looked at him and each other that uncertainty was the best news he could possibly receive at this point.

Captain Zaraki didn't even know his zanpakutō's name, but Yumichika went to him for counsel next. The mountain of a man simply grunted cluelessly and sent him out the door, but not before ordering him to rest until he'd regained some strength. Yumichika hadn't had the guts to ask what would happen to his position if the sword didn't restore itself soon.

Ikkaku had always had a good relationship with his zanpakutō. The two were so much alike, Yumichika had always held a deep affection for his friend's weapon. He liked to watch it in action, along with Ikkaku, moving so fluidly and with such confidence and grace. Nothing like the halting, clumsy way he often perceived his own fighting style. With the growing tension between himself and Ruri'iro Kujaku reaching its boiling point at every turn, he'd never quite gotten to the level of strength he knew they were both capable of if given the opportunity; and now it was probably too late.

Even the third seat didn't have any answers for him. This was especially discouraging, as Ikkaku had always been the one to give him advice about everything (one obvious exception being kidō).

They sat together outside Squad 11's barracks, drinking heated sake and watching the sun set. Ikkaku had wrapped an arm around his shoulder and assured him "Fuji Kujaku" was just taking his time and would regenerate on his own for sure.

"If… if he doesn't," Yumichika had ventured, "I wouldn't be a soul reaper anymore." He gave the statement a moment to settle in before glancing Ikkaku's way. "What would happen to us then?"

Ikkaku's arm slowly moved off of his back, leaving it cold. In the dim evening light, Yumichika could see his jaw working like it did when he thought hard. He seemed to be searching his mind for the right thing to say to ease his partner's mind, not the hard truth. Finally he settled on: "That won't happen. You're makin' yourself crazy worryin' like this."

Yumichika stared into his cup. "But if it does? I just want to be prepared, that's all."

Ikkaku's hand settled on his back again, rubbing gently. "We'll still be friends," he said. It wasn't the reply Yumichika had expected, but had to suffice for now. He hadn't mentioned any other aspect of their relationship, but then again, everything they did together – talking, sparring, eating, sleeping, bathing, sex – fit neatly under Ikkaku's definition of "friendship." As far as the two of them were concerned, at least. Yumichika had learned a long time ago that simplicity was the best approach.

Yet he couldn't help but worry that Ikkaku would lose interest in him soon. All the decisions he'd made around Ruri'iro Kujaku were meant to keep Ikkaku by his side, as he felt that even losing his position in Squad 11 would be enough to tear them apart. Even in that worst case scenario, they'd remain acquaintances and comrades. If he wasn't a soul reaper at all anymore, however, he might never see him again. Things would crumble like he'd always feared, but in a way he'd never thought possible.

Ikkaku had said their friendship would survive no matter what – but that was the same thing he'd say whenever Yumichika expressed concern over his recklessness. Even if one of them was dead, he'd tell him, they would still be friends forever. Did that mean they'd still be friends on the inside but not on the outside? It wasn't enough. Yumichika didn't want to be anyone pity project or live on the sidelines like some secret fling while Ikkaku saw all the action they were supposed to experience together.

The conversation ended before Yumichika could lay his real worries onto Ikkaku. It was probably for the best. The other man's desires and beliefs were beautifully simple, and Yumichika didn't need to ask when he already knew the truth: if he could no longer fight, it was over between them. That was that.

Three weeks of this torture and he was beginning to lose hope, to lose patience, ready to crumble under the pressure of it all. He could tell Ikkaku had gotten worried too, though he didn't say so. He simply stopped mentioning the whole thing. He'd make small talk and then get nervous when the conversation turned heavy, so Yumichika dropped it as well. Avoidance would be his best chance at making it through with what little sanity was left.

One humid day, Yumichika decided to take a nap. Constant worry could get tiresome, after all, and Ikkaku wouldn't be back from training duty until nightfall. So the exhausted and heartsick man crawled under a pile of blankets and closed his eyes.

That was when he found himself in his inner world.

Relief had washed over him like a cool, refreshing tidal wave, almost enough to make him laugh out loud. However, his eyes had immediately turned in the direction of Ruri'iro Kujaku's tent. Celebrating could wait. He needed answers. He needed reassurance that the zanpakutō spirit remained intact. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it before, as it probably would have overwhelmed him, but his soul desperately missed its mate.

The sun was illuminating everything now like a visual confirmation of renewed hope. His heart fluttered as he descended a hill, eyes glued on the tent even though his familiarity with the landscape could get him there blindfolded. Usually, the environment around him could distract for hours on end. His favorite spot by the stream lay just to the left, but he passed it by. There was no time to waste now that he'd managed to get here.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's tent was a smallish structure standing amid some broken down fences and preceding a long grassland that seemed to go on forever. Its fabric was azure as a peacock's breast feathers, the door flaps fitted with dark red braided tie-backs and tassels to hold it open, but today these accoutrements dangled loosely to let the door stay closed. Wooden pegs fitted with brailing loops held it in place. The storm didn't seem to have affected it much, besides a few trails of water running down the sides.

When he stood before the door, his heart was hammering painfully. Ruri'iro Kujaku could probably already sense him, so there was no point putting off the reunion anymore. It wasn't as if three weeks had been the longest they'd gone without speaking.

Gingerly, he pulled back one of the soft fabric flaps and watched sunlight pour in through its small opening. A cold hand clenched his chest. The place was empty.

_Stop it_, he told himself to calm down. _There's a whole world he could be hiding in… I've just got to find him_.

Yumichika turned back toward the creek. Sometimes Ruri'iro Kujaku spent time there as well, watching the fish or just meditating by the calming sound of the current. The bird spirit was very easily distracted by beautiful things – maybe he was just wandering around somewhere, Yumichika thought to himself when he found no sign of him near the creek. He began to grow frustrated.

By now, the zanpakutō should have shown himself in one way or another. Anger and worry churned in Yumichika's gut as he continued searching, pace quickening with each passing attempt at finding the peacock in one of his usual spots. The vast empty battlefield covered in bits of torn armor and rusted steel was also empty, but that didn't surprise him. Neither he nor his sword found that place to be very beautiful. It was like a bloody junkyard, and at the moment even sported several stagnant pools of rainwater swarming with mosquitoes.

The surrounding area, which Yumichika had avoided knowingly on the way to the tent, was just as dismantled but had its own charm. Buildings that looked to be abandoned for centuries, crawling with wisteria flowered vines that had sucked the life out of any other potential climbers. A ruined street ran through, forded on either side by shacks that no longer had any doors, windows, or even roofs and floors. It looked like a place where bombs or some other destructive force had wiped out all life long ago. Stick-like trees sprung up from some of the dirt floors, moss sprouted from the stony walls, and small animals always prowled about.

Yumichika had never been overly pleased with having such a location in his inner world, but he would have been happy to spend all day slogging through it if Ruri'iro Kujaku had been there.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku!" he shouted, blushing at how his voice cracked. He growled to himself and rubbed his temples. He had a few choice words for the sword spirit, if only he could find him.

After what felt like hours of searching, even checking all the dusty old structures, he found no sign of his zanpakutō anywhere. Yumichika became increasingly irritated, scared, and confused. How had he gotten here if Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't around to call him? And if the peacock was there, why could he find him? Was he hiding? Was he avoiding his master? Unacceptable!

Yumi made his way across the field to another stretch of plains. He shook his head with an angry exhale when he saw nothing but a few horses and small white egrets on the horizon. The peacocks a few yards off were squawking to each other as usual; Yumichika had already stopped by their haunt but Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't there either. This made no sense! By now, he couldn't decide whether to be afraid for his sword's safety or infuriated at his antics. If he really had called him here just to make him search aimlessly, he'd make him pay! And if he really had been destroyed and was no longer a part of this inner world – Yumichika was not about to entertain such a thought after having his hopes raised before.

While walking back through the battlefield, the exhausted soul reaper managed to trip on a helmet sticking out of the dirt and land flat on his knees, barely escaping an even messier incident by grabbing an old spear for support. The wooden shaft snapped in his hand and sent his palms into the mud. He froze for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh and sat back on his heels. A small flock of birds passed by overhead. Yumichika tilted his head back to watch them and ended up in quite a pitiful position, staring at the sky and wishing there was someone up there to hear his complaints. "Ruri'iro Kujaku," he groaned. "The game is over, just come out, please…"

Of course no reply came. He sighed deeply and fell forward again, letting his elbows sink into the mud. He felt terrible, might as well let the outside reflect it. His forehead lowered onto his hands and a single sob escaped. Ashamed, he sat up and gathered some composure. The hopelessness of mere seconds ago quickly turned to anger and resentment. He was sure that bastard of a zanpakutō was doing this just to hurt him, that he was watching from somewhere, pleased with himself for bringing his master to such a pathetic state. "Ruri'iro Kujaku…" he seethed, hands tightening into fists.

"Yumichika."

Gasping, he looked up on instinct, all traces of anger gone. It wasn't his zanpakutō's voice, but certainly a welcome one.

"Yo, wake up. Come on, up and at 'em."

The landscape around him began to blur and swirl out of focus. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them the barracks were dark save for a small lamp on the table. Ikkaku hovered above him, wearing a concerned expression that seemed to soften a bit when he saw his friend awaken.

"Nnng… What time is it?" Yumichika asked groggily. Ikkaku helped him sit up, then lowered himself to the bed beside him. It must have been night time already – how long was he asleep? It certainly didn't feel like he'd rested in the recent past. Yawning, he leaned his head on Ikkaku's shoulder and laced their fingers together. He craved some closeness after that experience.

Ikkaku reached up to brush the hair from Yumi's face. "Sun just set. You been sleepin' all day?" he asked, fingers still playing with the raven strands.

Yumichika smiled. Ikkaku must have been able to tell how badly he felt at the moment or he wouldn't be acting so affectionate. "Actually, I was in my inner world… but I couldn't find Fuji Kujaku," he added before Ikkaku could get his hopes up.

Apparently, the other man didn't find his zanpakutō's absence to be a bad sign. "Hey, that's great!" he said, genuinely enthusiastic. "I was startin' to worry! We should celebrate. Come on, let's go do somethin'… you could use some air."

Although he didn't feel like getting up at the moment, Yumichika complied. He slipped out of bed and kissed Ikkaku's cheek, then promptly sat himself at the vanity mirror and started checking his hair for imperfections. He watched Ikkaku stand up and stretch from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as the taller man pulled his sleeve back to assess the bruising on his left shoulder. "Rough day training?" he asked as he licked his thumb and started rubbing at the adhesive that held his feathers in place. They had gotten loose from how much he'd been sweating under those covers, though he'd never admit that was the cause.

Ikkaku sighed as he walked over to where Yumichika sat. He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him, hoping to lighten up the dense spiritual pressure he felt coming from the still-recovering soul. "Yeah, you know how it is. Woulda' been easier if you were there." He gave a light squeeze, then glanced up at the two of them in the mirror. Turning back to Yumichika, he added, "It shouldn't be too much longer now, right? You got into your inner world, so Fuji Kujaku's probably alright."

Yumichika finished pulling off the feathers. He decided not to put any new ones on, as he planned to take Ikkaku to the bath house and there would be no point in wearing facial ornaments in there. "Did you doubt it?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Course not," the other said as he stood back up. He held out a hand, which Yumichika took to stand. "I knew he'd come back eventually."

"Hmm. Well, he hasn't, so don't get your hopes up." It was annoying how Ikkaku pretended everything was fine. Just a moment ago, he said he'd been worried, right? Why wouldn't he just talk about things like a normal adult?

Yumichika half-smiled at his own hypocrisy for thinking such things.

Noticing how bitter his friend was getting, Ikkaku decided to steer clear of an argument. He wanted to help him relax, not add even more weight to the heavy load. "Alright, whatever you say. Come on." He draped an arm over Yumi's shoulders and led them out the door. A cool breeze chilled his still sweaty face, making him hum in contentment.

Yumichika complained about his partner's locker room stench until they reached the bath house just outside Seireitei in District 1 East, where lots of rich folk liked to cleanse the day away in privacy. At this time of night, most people were having dinner, so the pair was able to reserve a room without having to wait or go somewhere else. Normally their own bathroom attached to the officer's quarters worked fine, but, as Ikkaku had mentioned, Yumichika needed to get out for a while. He and Ikkaku usually ignored their prescriptions of bed rest and went out drinking or otherwise not obeying doctors' orders after an injury, but this time had been different. His emotional state made the simple act of getting out of bed seem unappealing.

They changed into those thin bath house robes just to take them off again, Ikkaku letting his fall carelessly to the floor while Yumichika smiled and hung his neatly on the wall. It was nice to spend some time together, just the two of them. Even though Ikkaku had been around plenty, his distance and the lack of working together made him feel a bit lonely.

The bald man was already in the bath, splashing his face and head to get rid of sweat and grime. Yumichika climbed in beside him and leaned against the edge with a sigh, letting his ankles cross in the water before turning to watch Ikkaku with a small grin on his lips.

"Ahhhhhh. That's better," Ikkaku said to himself before working on cleaning his arms and shoulders.

Yumichika moved toward him and stopped his hands from moving. "Here, let me," he said quietly. Ikkaku straightened his back out a bit and held still, slowly relaxing into Yumichika's touch as he rubbed the warm water over the sore spots on his biceps, massaging gently. "Hmmmmmm," Ikkaku moaned in approval. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, glad for the few moments of peace with his favorite person. These past few weeks had been hard on both of them, he thought. They deserved a break, even if they'd just go back to feeling shitty when it ended.

After Yumichika's injury, Ikkaku had felt totally helpless. It wasn't the first time either of them had been near death, but the experience never got any easier. The loss of Yumichika's zanpakutō was just an added layer of horribleness that they could have done without. He grunted when those soft yet strong hands started working at some tension in his shoulders, massaging away the effects of the workout. A couple newbies had managed to land a few blows on him today, but he chose not to mention that little detail aloud.

Ikkaku remembered their conversation from a few nights ago. Lately, he just didn't know what to say to ease Yumichika's mind. If he were in that position, what would he want to hear? He simply couldn't imagine anything relieving the sting of losing a zanpakutō. The few times Hōzukimaru had disappeared on him, it had only taken a day or two for him to regain form. Even his broken bankai had regenerated over time, though it would never reach its former glory. He had yet to face what Yumichika was now: the thought of losing his seat in the squad, possibly even his status as a soul reaper. He opened his eyes, watching the water ripple gently with their small movements. What was there to say? How could he convince his friend that everything would be alright when he himself didn't believe it? He bit his lips, chest twisting. Captain Zaraki had told him a few days ago that sooner or later, they'd have to "do something" about the fifth seat if he didn't regain his weapon soon. Ikkaku had convinced him to give the guy some time, but not much. Knowing the nature of their relationship, Zaraki figured Ikkaku would be best to speak to him about it. It just wasn't an easy conversation to start.

When Yumichika had asked what would happen between them if he lost his zanpakutō, Ikkaku didn't know how to answer. He would gladly continue their relationship and see him every day if possible, sneak him into the barracks, cause trouble, make love, have fun just like they used to – only he knew that was impossible. If Yumichika was no longer a soul reaper, that meant no more missions together, no more fighting together, no more spending every possible moment together without a care in the world. He didn't want that, but he'd do whatever it took to keep the other man in his life. Even if that meant things weren't the same. Yumichika had never been into sappy love confessions, though.

"That feels awesome," he mumbled as the massage deepened. Yumichika kissed him behind the ear in reply, then continued working his hands in that skillful way he knew after so many years familiarizing himself with this territory.

Finally, he touched Ikkaku's cheek lightly to signify he was done, then cracked his knuckles and dipped his hands in the water to start washing himself. Ikkaku smiled and turned to face him, gaining an inquisitive look before kissing him deeply on the mouth as a thank-you for lots of things – treating him well, taking care of him, surviving his injury and not leaving him alone just yet.

Yumichika grinned. He seemed to be in a good mood, but the spiritual pressure Ikkaku felt around him betrayed appearances. He cupped the shorter man's face and kissed him again, slowly, pressing their foreheads together and tucking some damp hair behind his ears. The water was making him sweat all over again. "C'mere," he said gruffly, pulling Yumichika into a loose embrace. After so long, they were just as comfortable naked around each other as they were clothed, so it was a welcome feeling to get close. Yumichika chuckled softly as Ikkaku's lips moved over his, linking his arms around his neck and bringing small handfuls of water up to his hair to wash it. It had been a while since they got intimate.

Suddenly Ikkaku's hand moved down to his stomach like it often did, carelessly. Yumichika swallowed a gasp and jerked away. He brought his own hand to where Ikkaku's had just pulled back, and ran his fingers over the forming scar tissue.

"Sorry," Ikkaku blurted, placing both hands on Yumichika's shoulders for balance. "I didn't mean to – shit, I'm sorry, Yumi."

"Hah, it's okay," Yumichika breathed, feeling a bit shaken. His two healed wounds were still a bit tender after Squad 4's kidō treatments, but more than that was the memory fresh. The dreadful feeling of being alone in his inner world, of Ruri'iro Kujaku abandoning him, flashed through his mind. "My stomach still hurts, but I didn't mean to… do that. It wasn't very beautiful."

Ikkaku couldn't help but smile at that. "Eh, I guess I could find it in my heart to forgive ya. Anyway, come 'ere a minute." He pulled the other man closer, closing the distance between them effectively. "Hold yer breath." Yumichika took in a breath just as Ikkaku pinched his nose shut and dunked his head back into the water and pulled him back up, pushing his hair back so it wouldn't stick to his face.

After the bit of awkwardness a moment ago, Yumichika felt compelled to change the subject from his injury. "So," he breathed, smoothing his hair down as Ikkaku began washing his back. "Has Squad 11 utterly fallen apart yet? I imagine I'll have a lot of paperwork since none of those simpletons can file a report to save their lives."

"Heh, yeah." Ikkaku faltered, wondering how to avoid the elephant in the room during this particular conversation.

Yumichika stared up at the ceiling, fidgeting a bit as Ikkaku's calloused fingers worked at his weakened muscles. "I'm not looking forward to that," he mused.

Ikkaku hummed a reply and kissed the back of his friend's neck. He felt a bit guilty for enjoying a long massage when Yumichika was the one who needed relaxation – and even more guilty for what he was about to say. But they had to talk eventually. "You know, even if Fuji Kujaku doesn't come back for a while, you'll still be able to stay in Squad 11." He refused to suggest the sword wouldn't return at all, though the possibility lingered.

He noticed the change in Yumichika's disposition immediately. His shoulders tensed up and his head tilted forward, away from Ikkaku's wrists. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "Squad 11 is for strong men only. I can't stay if Fuji Kujaku doesn't regenerate soon."

"You _are_ strong, though. You coulda' kicked any of those guys' asses today, even without a zanpakutō. Shit, you could probably take 'em all without a wooden sword. I've seen you throw a man twice your size like he was a pillow."

Yumichika's lips tightened into a thin line. "But that's not all there is to it," he argued. "I can't fight hollows without a zanpakutō. I can't perform konsō either. I won't be able to go on missions to the living world anymore, or to the Rukongai, or protect anyone…" his voice caught. The thought of losing all that made his life meaningful began to sink in. He was surprised to find tears stinging at his eyes, and knew with one more word they would fall freely.

Ikkaku swallowed, slowing his ministrations down a bit. "Come on, that's not true."

"Yes it is! Denying the problem won't make it go away!" Yumichika snapped, groaning in exasperation and hiding his face in his now tightly folded arms. Ikkaku mentally kicked himself for ruining his partner's relaxing time, but there had to be a way to salvage things. Getting it all out in the open was good.

He kissed his silky hair, then began smoothing it back using handfuls of the warm water. "Okay, but that don't mean you can't train new recruits, or help with paperwork, and stuff like that." By "help" he really meant do it all himself. Without Yumichika, Squad 11 really was quite a mess. Lots of the lower-ranking guys had to push a broom around and keep the barracks straight, but Yumichika put in the real effort where it counted. "You won't have to leave the squad. We'll figure somethin' out, is all I'm saying."

"And all _I'm _saying is that Captain Zaraki won't want me around anymore if I can't fight. Are you daft or something? Sure I can knock some of the weaklings around now and then, but what good does that do if I'm not their superior? Nobody wants to learn from some unseated failure who doesn't even have a zanpakutō. Without Fuji Kujaku, it's over." Now the tears were falling and it was too late to stop. He gasped and drew his knees in closer, trying to pretend he hadn't lost control of his emotions. Ikkaku rubbed his back. If he did notice, he didn't say anything about it.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around his neck and mumbled, "Why're we even talkin' about this? You went to your inner world today, which means Fuji Kujaku's comin' back. So there's nothin' to even worry about." He kissed him on the cheek, prompting him to splash warm water on his face to hide the tears. The redness he could easily blame on steam.

"So you say," he mumbled. Suddenly he didn't feel like being touched anymore. With a sigh, he lamented, "My fingers are all pruney…"

Ikkaku stood and helped him to his feet. Seeing the time, they had to hurry and get dressed before some high-and-mighty employee walked in and scolded them for staying in too long. Yumichika helped Ikkaku with the robe, knowing his shoulders were still quite sore, then slipped into his own. Ikkaku's arm went straight around his waist. He held the hand that pressed against his hip, wishing the right combination of words would happen to absolve his worries. Ikkaku seemed to believe everything would work out, but Yumichika knew better. His fears would not be put to rest so easily.

The walk home was silent.

After forcing down a rice ball and some weak tea, Yumichika sat up in bed while Ikkaku snored beside him. Sometimes they slept separately, but the other cot in the room usually served as nothing more than a second shelf on which to throw discarded items and clothing.

Ikkaku's hand rested on Yumi's stomach, but this time he didn't move it. The warmth felt nice through the thin fabric of his bedclothes, and he might as well stop trying to hide the scars. His companion didn't seem to mind them; in fact, he complimented them nonstop when Yumichika was still in Squad 4. Staring at the sleeping man, he reached down to run his knuckles against the warm cheek. His presence alone usually sufficed to soothe any hurt, physical or otherwise, but this time was different. Even as he lowered himself down to wrap his arms around his companion, who he loved, for whom he'd sacrificed so much, all he could think about was seeing Ruri'iro Kujaku again.

When he closed his eyes, exhaustion quickly set in. He sighed into Ikkaku's chest, running a thumb over the other man's strong upper arm as its weight lay across his waist. As recent discussions played through his mind, a heavy sense of dread took over. What would he do without the two most important beings in his life? He'd never sunk lower, he decided – and yet numbness pervaded over emotional release.

Yumichika squeezed his eyes shut tighter and breathed in Ikkaku's gentle, familiar scent and spiritual pressure. He kissed the chest pushing against his lips with every breath. If Ruri'iro Kujaku didn't come back, he'd lose everything. Slumber was the only available escape.

Instead of falling asleep, however, he once again opened his eyes to find a stretch of grasslands laid out for miles.

The tent, this time, was open.


End file.
